


This Ain't A Fairy Tale

by UnaVitaDiversa



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4, Fallout: Brotherhood of Steel
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23683780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnaVitaDiversa/pseuds/UnaVitaDiversa
Summary: F-Sole Corinne falls for an impossibly hard-headed Paladin. "My mistake, I didn't know to be in love you had to fight to have the upper hand..."  (lyrics by Taylor Swift, which I obviously didn't write and have no creative ownership of).
Relationships: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	This Ain't A Fairy Tale

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published story on AO3, which all started with Taylor Swift. Yep, you read that right! This story began to develop in my head while I was listening to my TS playlist and playing the FO4 game one night. I am so inspired by music to write stories! The songs "White Horse," "Come In with the Rain," and "I Almost Do" were particularly strong influences here. Specifically, "White Horse" really fit this dynamic I had in my head of Danse and my version of Nora, whose name is Corinne Stanton. Intended to be a one-shot, but I may turn it into more if there's enough reader interest.

Knight Corinne Stanton stood in her quarters, swallowing hard and fighting back the tears that threatened to spill onto her chapped cheeks. She’d already cried enough for an entire lifetime. It was hard to understand how there were any tears left. She tried to block out the Paladin’s sharp words as she flurried around the room, gathering her meager belongings. It was no good. Their earlier conversation replayed on a loop, screaming in her head like angry radcrows. His words had taken her breath away as if he’d pummeled her in the gut with his armor-clad fists. She felt physically ill.

_“If that’s really true, then it might be best for everyone if we parted ways,”_ Danse had sighed, arms folded over his chest in a display of annoyance that had become his trademark with her. _“Because **this** can never happen,”_ he indicated, gesturing his hand back and forth between them with evident disdain. _“You’ve been sloppy and out of control lately, Stanton. Maybe you ought to return to the Commonwealth and pick up where you left off with your Minutemen, before you cause any further difficulties for either of us.”_ His eyes were emotionless.

_Stupid girl. I should have known._ Corinne suddenly hated herself for revealing her feelings to him. It hurt so much to know that what she felt wasn’t reciprocated even in the slightest. It was right there on his face in that affronted expression. If she was being honest with herself though, she would have known to expect this. Danse had never given her any reason to believe he would entertain the idea of romance with her. A perfect gentleman, never leading her on or putting ideas in her head. Not that it kept the ideas from worming their way into her brain, in the end. What had she honestly expected? To ride off into the sunset with him on a white horse, like some Cinderella story? No. It didn’t work like that in this cold, new world. _I’m not a princess, and this ain’t a fairy tale…_ she thought miserably. She brushed away the traitorous tears with a trembling hand and continued packing her bags.

While she had occasionally allowed herself to dream about a happy ending to this scenario, she knew better. If there was one thing Corinne had learned since escaping that wretched cryopod and crawling out of Vault 111, it was that the post-war, nuked-out world was brutally unforgiving. There were no happy endings now, not for anyone. Least of all a 230-year old housewife and mother, who no longer had a claim to either title since losing both her husband and child in one fell swoop. What did she even have to live for in this Godforsaken wasteland now? Had she honestly believed that it could be the stoic Paladin? Danse could not fill the gaping void left behind by the broken fragments of her former life. How could she be so childishly naïve, after everything she’d been through?

Intoxication had definitely played a factor. Their victory at Fort Hagen yesterday had resulted in quite the celebration back at the brotherhood’s Boston airport base. They’d been able to secure an enormous amount of valuable resources after clearing the compound out of feral ghouls. The frenzied excitement, music, laughter, and freely-flowing spirits had proved disastrous for Corinne’s self-control. About three whiskey-and-Nuka Colas in, she was openly flirting with Danse. He hadn't been amused; in fact, he immediately began reprimanding her for it. Against her best attempts to block it out, the scene replayed in her head again. The memory of her lips against his burned too brightly to ignore. 

She’d been walking around the base looking for him when she found him standing near the power armor station, sorting through a box of tools. _“Typical”_ she whispered, laughing to herself. Even during a damn party, he was back here working. She approached him with a hand outstretched, waggling her eyebrows in a manner that she thought was seductive but actually looked more spastic than anything. _“Wanna dance, Danse?”_ As she reached out for him, jerking her head suggestively back toward the lively sounds coming from the center of the base. Her legs wobbled a little bit on unsteady feet. _“You need to exercise better judgement, Knight,”_ he had immediately scolded. _“You are a Brotherhood Knight. Remember your oath. A victorious occasion is no excuse to lose control of yourself.”_ He was annoyed with her. Again.

Corinne had rolled her eyes and persevered. When she whirled around on one foot to face him again, he was scowling as usual. She charged toward him, intending to show him exactly what had been running through her mind all night, but face-planted into his broad, armored chest the process. It hurt like hell. She was straightening herself, wiping blood from her freshly-busted lip, preparing to apologize… but she didn’t get the chance. Within seconds, he was scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder, cave-man style. She had screeched loudly, swatting at his rear end. _“PUT. ME. DOWN!”_ she had cried. _“NO,”_ he had growled back. _“Party time’s over, Stanton. You’re going back to your quarters before you embarrass yourself, and me, any further. That’s an order.”_

Since it had been late by that point anyway, she gave up fighting him. She convinced herself she would have gone back up soon enough anyway, so let him think he was in charge for the moment. Approximately 15 minutes later they were on a vertibird. Then they were in her quarters, back aboard the Prydwen. He was dumping her unceremoniously onto her bed. _“Lights out in five,”_ he commanded. Tossing a clean white t-shirt and pair of grey sweatpants from the dresser in her direction, he turned away to let her change in privacy. She tried to get up but her balance was shit. She tumbled ungracefully forward, colliding into his backside, and grabbed frantically at his biceps for support. He had whirled on her then and they were face to face, chest to chest. Corinne saw an opportunity, one she may never get again, so she had boldly taken it. 

Standing up on her tiptoes, snaking her arms around his strong core, and placing one hand lightly against his chest for balance, she leaned in and kissed him. Or tried to, at least. He instantly dodged just outside of her reach, setting her off-balance again and tumbling backward toward the bed. _“What the hell has gotten into you?”_ he had demanded, clear disdain in his voice. _“You,”_ she had said in a ragged whisper. She dragged her bewildered gaze up to meet his glare. _“You have, and no matter what I do I can’t make it go away,”_ she cried. He cleared his throat but remained silent for several beats before speaking again. _“Make what go away? I…I don’t understand. To what situation are you referring, Knight?”_ Corinne bristled at the formality. Even now, as she’s just kissed his lips and openly admitted her sprawling wildfire of an obsession with him, he wouldn’t call her by her name.

_“I’m referring to the fact that I’m in love with you,”_ she had stated simply. _“That every single time I close my eyes, my thoughts are in the gutter and I’m kissing you, feeling your skin… I can’t stop thinking about you. Trust me Danse, I’ve tried. I don’t want to feel this way any more than you want me to.”_ Anguish filled her center remembering that moment, when she'd bared her soul to him only to be swiftly rejected. It was true. She wished desperately that she didn’t love him. Things would be so much easier.

_“Then you need to try harder to make yourself stop,”_ he had growled in a low voice. _“This conduct is unacceptable not only on a moral level, but a regulatory one as well. That…cannot happen again. It will ruin us both,”_ he'd spat. He was angry with her. For kissing him. If nothing else made his lack of feelings for her clear, that sure did. It was definitely not the response she’d hoped for. She couldn’t look at him. Her anxious eyes remained glued to the sheet-metal under her feet, arms wrapping protectively around herself. _“But what if I can’t,”_ she'd whispered hoarsely. _"What I can’t stop feeling this way? What am I supposed to do then?”_

That was it. The moment Paladin Danse broke her already second-hand heart. That’s when he told her that they’d be better off if she just removed herself from his life, from the Brotherhood as a whole. He now saw her as a problem to deal with or eliminate. Corinne's sobs were getting louder now as she pictured leaving Danse behind. She was losing the ability to calm herself. He hadn’t spoken to her at all or even looked at her in the Prydwen’s dining room that morning. He just sat there eating his breakfast, drinking his coffee, like she didn’t exist. Maybe to him, she didn’t anymore.

_I honestly believed in you,_ she angrily accused the image of him in her mind. _My mistake. You’re no different from the rest of them._ He’d disappeared without a word after that. It was 16:00 and she still hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him. What would his thoughts be, she wondered, when he came back to find her gone? That she’d granted his request and left the Brotherhood? Would there be even a hint of regret, sadness, or guilt for hurting her like that? Or would he just be relieved to be rid of her antics? She would never know.

Corinne surveyed the room one final time before pulling on her backpack and tossing a large duffel over her shoulder. As she exited her former quarters, furiously wiping the tears away, she prayed no one would see her leaving in such a heightened emotional state. She didn’t have it in her to answer questions about this. She just needed to get out of there, _now_.


End file.
